Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Costa Rica and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing kango's stein massive to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Grandmaster Flash. All the underground hits.
All Sister Nancy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Manfred Mann's Earth Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
A Certain Ratio,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Graham Central Station,
Judy Mowatt,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Nation of Ulysses,
the Fania All-Stars,
Byron Stingily,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Pussy Galore,
UT,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Icehouse,
Circle Jerks,
Sonny Sharrock,
Black Moon,
Mo-Dettes,
Donny Hathaway,
The Human League,
Organ,
Lou Reed,
Franke,
Adolescents,
The Techniques,
Black Sheep,
Procol Harum,
The Beau Brummels,
Technova,
Masters at Work,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sarah Menescal,
Schoolly D,
Chrome,
Wolf Eyes,
Gabor Szabo,
Connie Case,
The Wake,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Idris Muhammad,
Pylon,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Bad Manners,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Cowsills,
Rosa Yemen,
Minnie Riperton,
Ituana,
Khruangbin,
Aural Exciters,
Television Personalities,
Glambeats Corp.,
Slick Rick,
Leonard Cohen,
Cheater Slicks,
Half Japanese,
Suicide,
E-Dancer,
Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.